


Fire and Water

by lizznotliz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizznotliz/pseuds/lizznotliz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He tries for three days to tell her what Vader said, the truth of his family, but the words stick in his throat. Leia's the only person he has left and he can't stomach the idea of her looking at him with the same kind of hatred she reserves for Imperials, the pity and sorrow she saves for refugees. The thought makes him nauseous, that one day she might look at him as anything other than the farmboy, the pilot, her best friend." </p>
<p>(Or, what if Luke went back to see Yoda while Lando & Chewie were looking for Han between ESB and RotJ, Leia insisted on going with him to Dagobah, and they learned they were siblings then.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Water

They fight for three days after Lando and Chewie leave.

Luke feels like his world has tilted off its axis, like the ship they're on is listing and he's the only one who's noticed. When the medical droids aren't running a dozen different tests to make sure he hasn't contracted an infection or that his body isn't rejecting the prosthesis, he's trying to stay awake long enough to argue with Leia about why he has to leave.

She protests first because he can barely stand up on his own. The adrenaline that kept him conscious on the Falcon has completely left his system, and the shock that his amputation caused means that he's shaky and weak-kneed even a few days later. She ducks under him and pulls his arm across her shoulders when he tries to go to the fresher by himself, and the action has such a well-practiced air to it that he wonders - not for the first time - what happened to the others on Bespin. Whenever he presses her, her lips go white and she turns away, fingernails carving divots into her palms, and she fires back with, "Why do you have to leave?"

He has to see Yoda.

Every time he closes his eyes, he hears Vader's voice. The rasp of the ventilator, the deep bass of his words.  _I am your father._ He wakes in a cold sweat, swallowing bile, and it confounds the medical droids because they think he's ill but he shows no other signs of infection or tissue rejection. He calls out for Obi-Wan in his sleep, but the old man never answers and, really, that's all Luke needs right now. He needs an answer, needs to hear the truth from someone he trusts, even if his bones already know.

"I, I have to see someone," he says. "The Jedi Master I was training with. I need to talk to him. Leia, I _need_ to."

"About what happened to you on Bespin?" She spits the name like its poison in her mouth. He nods. She slides her hand across his cheek. "Luke, talk to me: what happened?"

His metal hand curls into a fist against his thigh.

He tries for three days to tell her what Vader said, the truth of his family, but the words stick in his throat. Leia's the only person he has left and he can't stomach the idea of her looking at him with the same kind of hatred she reserves for Imperials, the pity and sorrow she saves for refugees. The thought makes him nauseous, that one day she might look at him as anything other than the farmboy, the pilot, her best friend.

[The son of her enemy. The legacy of that evil.]

"Leia, _please_ ," he begs. If he could get down on his knees, he would. They argue and yell - her more than him - and he swears up and down, swears on the graves of his aunt and uncle, swears on the stars that he'll help her find Han just as soon as he's done with Yoda, but she won't even consider it.

"If you think for one second I'm letting you out of my sight after what happened to Han, you've got another thing coming, moon jockey."

They fight until he passes out from exhaustion. When he wakes, Leia is sleeping in a chair at his bedside, her hand wrapped tight around his prosthetic one. He's noticed, already, that she makes a habit of grabbing his right hand now: defiantly, compulsively, like she's trying to tell him  _it doesn't matter to me_. Her other hand cradles a comlink. Chewie and Lando haven't checked in yet.

When the medical droids release him, confident that his new hand is stable, Leia stands in the door to keep him from running away.

"You can go," she allows, "but only if I come with you. I can't..."She ducks her head, crosses her arms over her chest, and tucks her hands into her armpits to keep them from shaking.

Luke  _can't_ either, but when has he ever denied Leia anything?

"Find us a shuttle," he whispers, and she rewards him with something that's almost a smile.

He holds onto it. He's afraid it's the last one she'll ever offer him.

 

 

 

 

Leia gets them one of the training X-wings, the two-seaters that are even more cramped than usual. He's not sure how she manages it - he doesn't ask, she doesn't offer - but he imagines that the rest of the Alliance has the same problem he does: they can't say no to her. Or, more accurately, she doesn't take no for an answer. They probably aren't happy that she's running off with him, but that's not his problem.

His problem is how to keep from losing her when she knows the truth.

They bring Artoo along for navigation and leave Threepio with Alliance brass. Luke nearly laughs when Leia shows up in a borrowed flight suit, but neither of them are doing much smiling as of late. She fiddles with the straps and buckles, hanger lights making the orange suit look overbright, and he wants to settle his hands on her shoulders and tell her to calm down. 

He doesn't. Touch her. He feels like Vader cut off more than just his hand.

"You been in one of these lately?" He took her up a few days after their medal ceremony on Yavin. The base was in the first stages of relocation and she had cornered him in the barracks and asked for a personal favor. In all the chaos they managed to sneak out unbothered and he flew her out to where the Death Star had been. She wanted to see the debris for herself and he bobbed amongst the space dust for only ten minutes before he heard her start crying. He turned off his comlink and ignored hails from the base and they stayed up there until her eyes were dry.

Leia shakes her head, though, and if he wasn't feeling so out of sorts it might make him feel special; she's friendly with most of Rogue Squadron but she's only ever gone up in an X-wing with him. She climbs in behind him, folding herself up into the jump seat. Luke forgets how small she is; she's always so much bigger in his head.

Artoo squeals from his spot in the back and Luke lowers the canopy over their heads. He pauses, right hand clenching over the yoke, and Leia reaches over his shoulder and squeezes.

"We don't have to go," she whispers, her voice magnified in the comm inside his helmet.

_I am your father._

"Yeah, I do." The engines burn hot out of the hangar and Artoo punches them into hyperspace as soon as they're clear.

 

 

 

 

Luke settles the ship down carefully in the swamp, mindful of where the land drops off sharply into water. He couldn't raise his X-wing out of the water the first time, and he feels so shaky lately that he's positive he wouldn't be able do it now. He has disappointed Yoda enough already; with the shame he's sure is about to settle on his shoulders, he doesn't want to compound his failure.

Leia stares at the swamp with undisguised wonder. It's a look she doesn't get often and Luke savors it; he likes being able to surprise her, even if he didn't really have anything to do with this. She's usually so serious, so angry and focused, that her wide eyes and the unconscious smile flirting at the edge of her lips eases something in his chest. He knows he's about to take that away from her, replace that wonder with something like betrayal.

"This is where you were?" she asks. She unzips the flight suit to her waist and ties off the sleeves. "When we were on our way to..." She doesn't say the name anymore.

"This is where the last Jedi lives." He climbs down the nose of the X-Wing, then offers Leia his hand. She smirks at him, at his hand, then leans over the side of the ship to gauge the distance to the ground before she hops off the side. Mud splashes up over her boots when she lands, but she doesn't seem to care. 

"Can I meet him? Or do you... what you need to do here, do you need to do it alone?"

He wants to say yes, wants to hear Yoda's confirmation and lick his wounds in peace before they leave again to find Han, but something about that seems unfair. He doesn't like lying to Leia and somehow he knows it's only a matter of time before she finds out. Maybe if he gets it all over with at once, it will hurt less.

It won't. It's going to hurt worse than losing his hand.

At least if she finds out here, she can't leave him, he thinks selfishly. At least not right away.

"You should come," he says. "You can hear it."

"Luke, are you sure you're alright?"

He drags up a smile, the one he always offered to her on Hoth when Leia and Han were at each other's throats and it was up to him to keep things peaceful. He would needle them both, tease gently and cajole until they would agree to all get dinner in the canteen together and he would beam at them like he'd just brokered a truce between the Alliance and the Empire. 

It feels foreign on his face now. Everything is fractured: his body, his family, the Alliance, Han.

"C'mon." He offers her his hand again. This time she takes it, stepping carefully over roots and vines until they get to Yoda's door. "I'm sorry," he says.

"For what?"

"I'm just sorry." When he lifts his free hand to knock on the door, Leia pulls him away, back toward the ship, and he doesn't have the strength of will to stop her.

"What _is_ this?" Leia demands. "What is wrong with you? Why are we really here?"

"I need to ask him a question. And the answer... if he tells me what I think he will, I'm afraid I'm going to lose you," Luke confesses to the earth, unable to meet her eyes.

"I feel like I already am," she tells him and, _oh_ , that hurts. Far more than he expects. "You've been so distant, and I know you're hurting, Luke," and here she squeezes the unforgiving metal of his new hand, "but after Han, I can't... you can't..." She punches his shoulder because she doesn't know how else to get his attention. "It's just you and me now. Til we get him back. We hold onto each other, okay? No matter what your master says."

Luke knows in his bones that he'll hold tight to Leia, so long as it's safe. The problem is, once he hears the words from Yoda, he's afraid that it won't ever be safe for her again. But he nods and he lets her sweep him up into a hug and smooth back his hair, all mussed from his helmet, and then she leads him back to the tiny door of Yoda's home.

"Together," she says, but he slips his hand from hers before they enter.

 

 

 

 

If Yoda is surprised to see Leia, he doesn't let it show. He seems only to have eyes for Luke, studying him carefully with a frown. 

"Back, hmmm?" Yoda inquires, humming. "Find your friends? Rescue them, did you?"

Leia bristles. Luke hangs his head in shame.

"A trap, it was. Warned you, I did." Leia turns to Luke in shock; whether it's because the Jedi knew they were in danger or because Luke willingly walked into a trap, he can't tell. He would ask, but he's not sure the answer matters.

"Master, please, I have a question." 

Yoda doesn't seem to hear him. Instead he looks pointedly at Luke's empty belt, then prods his stomach with his cane. "Lost your weapon, you have."

"And his _hand_ ," Leia defends, her voice strangely loud above the white noise of the swamp, the crackle of the fire in the corner. "In case you haven't noticed."

"Leia, it's fine," he whispers, but he can tell by the look on her face that she doesn't think this conversation is anywhere near _fine_.

"Repeats itself, history does," Yoda says, and though the words are soft it catches both their attention. He's staring sadly at Luke's hand, like he can see through the black leather glove and is examining all the wires and servos that keep it functioning.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Leia asks bluntly, and something warm flares in Luke's chest: he admires her, the way she doesn't seemed cowed by anyone or anything. She's standing up to the last Jedi Master in the galaxy, standing up for him, and he can't help but think _I'm going to miss her when she hears the truth._  


Yoda doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't acknowledge Leia's question or her answer. He just sighs and hobbles over to his bed, sitting on the edge and holding his cane tightly in his hands.

"Ask," he says and, like all he needed was permission, the words come loose in Luke's mouth.

"Darth Vader. When I fought him. He said..." Luke takes a deep breath, and purposefully looks at the wall, away from Yoda and Leia. "Is he my father?"

He hears Leia gasp, hears her shuffle back and run into one of the low sloping walls. He closes his eyes; Yoda hasn't even answered yet and she's already trying to get away.

"Your father, he is." And Luke knows, he's known since he first heard Vader say the words, but everything feels different now, like he was on shaky ground before and now the ground just suddenly isn't there. Before Luke can ask any more questions, Yoda inexplicably turns to Leia and sighs.

"Yours, too, I am afraid."

 

 

 

 

He finds her later curled up in the jump seat of the X-wing, as pale as he's ever seen her, eyes dark and shuttered. He's not sure how she managed it, how she wriggled her way in, but she's sitting sideways, with her knees under her chin and her arms wrapped around her shins. She'd run off after Yoda explained everything, not that he blames her; he wanted to run away, too, but there was something about the way Yoda looked at him that kept him from going.

"Time, she needs," Yoda had said, and Luke stomped on the anger that had flared in his chest.

Yes, of course she needed time. They both did. Their father was the scourge they fought every day and the old Jedi master had just dumped the information in their laps. But Luke knows already that he's going to have to be the calm one, the steady one, the one who listens and nods and takes everything in stride, because Leia got the fire and he got the water and only one of them can be angry about this at a time.

"You knew all of this? Before we came?" She asks and he didn't even realize she'd seen him approach. Maybe she didn't. Maybe this is why they've always seemed to just know where the other is, whether they're safe. He leans against the nose of the ship, looking out onto the swamp.

"I knew about me. Vader told me when we fought - and I think I believed him then, even if I didn't want to - but I needed to hear it from someone I could trust. I didn't know about..." He swallows thickly, his heart jumping under his ribs. "You - kriff - Leia, I swear on my life I didn't know. I didn't know about... us."

"It feels obvious now, doesn't it?" She asks. She sounds impossibly young and he tries to imagine her that way - his sister - wrapped up against the Tatooine sun, checking vaporators at his side. "Not the, the Vader thing, but us. Siblings."

"Twins," Luke offers and he can hear the breath catch in her chest. He just listens to her breathe for a while, the way it hitches every so often like she's trying not to cry. Finally the noise changes, the rustle of fabric as she climbs out of the jump seat. She slides down the nose of the X-wing until her knees hit his back and he grunts at the sudden weight against his spine.

"Luke," and her voice is wobbly, like the noise of the Falcon's engine when the pistons are out of whack. He leans back and wraps an around around her shoulders, tugging until she slides into his lap and she's clinging tightly to his shoulders, face buried in his neck.

"I got you, sister," he whispers into her hair and the noise she makes could almost be a laugh.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Go rescue Han?" He suggests, but it's more a question than a proper answer. "That's what we'd planned on, isn't it? I just needed to hear Yoda say it, and I have. We can follow after Lando and Chewie, and then once we've got Han back I can..."

His fingers clench around her shoulders at the wayward thought, and he lets his eyes drift closed even as he hears Leia whisper his name. Luke quiets his mind and opens his feelings, reaching out with the Force in a clumsy sort of way because it's hard right this second to keep his hands from shaking and his mind focused. He reaches out and feels the trees and the vines and the creatures and Yoda and - _there_ \- there she is, his sister, a light just like his, though dimmed, and he feels his soul open up with joy and possibility.

He stands, gathering her up in his arms, and she squawks in protest, pushing off against his chest until they both stumble into the mud. Leia thumps his ear with an open palm and then points a finger at his nose: "Don't think you can get away with that just because you're my brother now."

"Brother always," he says without thought, then threads his fingers between hers and and pulls her back towards Yoda's hovel. "C'mon, hurry."

"Luke, wait - no!" She digs her heels in, but the earth is too soft and he pulls her along easily enough. "Luke, I don't want to talk to him anymore. Not ever."

"But you have to," he says, and he can hear the eager farmboy tone of his voice, the pitch he thought he lost not long after Hoth. "You've got the Force, too, he can train us both now!"

"What if I don't want it?" she snarls, and there's the anger again, hot and bright and blinding, so he cools himself down first. "I don't want to be anything like him." _Our father._ It's implied.

"What about me?" Luke asks. "What about us together? If we take care of each other--"

"Much anger, she has." Luke whips around to see Yoda standing just a few feet from them. It's only been a week or so since he was here last, but Luke thinks the Jedi has aged significantly. He would feel guilty about it - it seems likely all that stress is from the Skywalkers - but Luke knows how heavy secrets can weigh on you, and that's neither Luke nor Leia's fault.

"You're damn right I'm angry," Leia says, her hands balled into fists. Without thinking, Luke reaches out and lays his hand on the back of her neck, squeezing gently. It's something his aunt used to do to him when he was young, when he and Uncle Owen would argue about his chores; he always found it calming, that pressure on the back of his neck. Leia must, too, because she melts slightly under his hand before she registers the overly familiar gesture and steps away from him. It's too much too soon and Luke recoils, embarrassed, but at least Leia's anger has faded slightly.

"Will you train us both, Master Yoda?"

Leia huffs. Yoda frowns.

"Too old for training," Yoda settles on at last. "Too angry, too stubborn--"

"You said I was all of those things, too, and you still trained me," Luke argues. "Master, you have to!"

Yoda begins to laugh and Luke flushes, embarrassed and ashamed. "Have to?" Yoda repeats. "Train her, I must? Wants to learn, does she?"

And really, that's the crux of it: Luke doesn't even know if Leia _wants_ to be trained. He threw himself into his training with reckless abandon, his desire to be like his father a guiding light. Even now, with the truth of his parentage weighing heavily on his shoulders, he can't shake that desire. Leia, though, with the news of her ancestry and abilities so fresh, may not want anything to do with the Force, or with him.

He'll have to convince her, he thinks. He'll have to show her how calming the Force can be, how powerful it can be. If the two of them trained together, if they pushed themselves, surely the Rebellion could only be aided by two Force-users on their side.

"Will it help save Han?"

Luke turns to her sharply, his mouth falling open in shock. He misses Han desperately - and knowing that Han was used as bait in a trap set specifically for him makes it all the worse - but he's still surprised by the trajectory of Leia's thoughts. She's a fierce leader of the Rebellion - how could she not immediately see how training in the Force would help in the fight against their father?

What had he missed, not traveling with them to Bespin?

"Will it?" Leia presses, stepping forward and crossing her arms over her chest. "Would training with you and Luke, learning how to use the Force, would it help us save Han? And defeat Vader?"

Yoda leans heavily on his cane and Luke thinks he's never seen the old Jedi look so sad. He can't understand why, can't figure out why all of this is so much worse than explaining what had actually happened to Anakin Skywalker earlier in the evening, but a resigned sort of sadness seems etched on Yoda's face now.

"Hard to see, the future is," Yoda answers quietly. "But yes, I believe so. Train you should, together. Thank you for it, the galaxy will. And your Captain Solo," he adds at the end, when Leia opens her mouth to ask again.

Leia looks back at Luke, her body still coiled tight in shock and anger, but the laser-focus he's always admired in her is back in her eyes. She grins at him, lips tilted not in happiness but grim determination. "When do we start?"

 

 

 

 

Although she's agreed to be trained, Leia refuses to stay in Yoda's home. They eat dinner with the Jedi master every evening after their studies but Leia always retreats to the X-wing to sleep, and Luke follows after because he can't imagine not. They throw a tarp over the X-wing and sleep underneath it. Luke tacks down the edges with rocks and props it up in a few places with sticks and Leia compliments him on his work.

"Have you ever slept in a tent?" He asks, folding up the second tarp he had stashed under his seat and laying it across the ground. It won't stop the cold from leeching up when they sleep at night, but at least they won't be damp. He knows Leia is no stranger to hardship, despite her royal upbringing. She's suffered and endured more than most as a high-ranking member of the Rebel Alliance, but there are gaps, and he kind of hopes this is her first tent. She shakes her head and he smiles and he shows her how to make sure the poles stay straight and the flaps fold together.

"Did you do much tent-making on Tatooine?" She asks, and he thinks for a second she's just being kind, but she folds her legs underneath her and sits down on the tarp, looking up at him with undisguised interest. Suddenly she's not Leia, the princess and best friend, but his sister and she wants to know about his childhood.

"S-sometimes," he says, stumbling forward. "We'd go exploring, me and my friends, not that there was much to explore. Just rocks and sand, but we liked to pretend. This was when I was very young; I had chores, but Uncle Owen let me off by midday and then I was free to roam with some of the other children. We'd sneak off with tarps and blankets - Biggs' father had a few gaffi sticks, we never knew how he got them - but they made for great tentpoles and we'd wander out as far as we dared and make up a little camp and declare ourselves free of our parents and chores." Luke smiles, genuinely, and Leia's face brightens in response.

"And how long would you stay?"

Luke laughs: "Couple hours, maybe? Most of us had to be home by sunset or else we'd have our hides tanned and for all our talk we were all too scared of a good whipping to actually stay out late. Plus, we never brought enough food."

"Or water?"

"Eh, we all knew the codes to the vaporators. We'd have been alright on that front."

Leia leans back, hands behind her head, and stares up at the underbelly of the X-wing. "That sounds nice," she says. "A little getaway with friends. Even just for a few hours."

Luke waits a moment, trying to decide if she's skittish or not, before crawling up next to her and lying on his stomach, pillowing his chin on his hands and asking, "What about you? What sort of fun did you have?"

Leia licks her lips, nose scrunched, and he can't tell if she's thinking or trying not to cry. He doesn't withdraw the question, though. "As a member of the royal house," she starts, "a lot of my fun was... structured. _Appropriately_ fun, which was rarely fun at all. But my... my parents, they were always cognizant of the fact that - princess or not - I was still a child. We were still restricted by propriety, but we would make our own fun. Once," Leia's eyes slip closed as she recalls the memory and Luke closes his eyes, too, so he can visualize whatever she's about to tell him. "Once, there was a holiday - I can't remember which one - and my parents dismissed our whole staff. Every single one of them had the day off. The palace was empty save for the three of us and a few security staff who would take the next day off instead, but they kept to the shadows and it was the first time in my life I felt alone. It was amazing: no one watching us, no one demanding my parents' time. We stayed down in the kitchens all morning making a terrible mess. Then Father pulled the cushions off a sofa in one of the drawing rooms we didn't often use and we slid down the marble stairs into the throne room."

"How old were you?"

Leia opens were eyes: "This started when I was eight, maybe? Or nine? We had so much fun that day that Mother made sure to dismiss the entire staff on holidays whenever we could manage it. It gave us a few days a year where we could just be... us."

Leia rolls over on her side and Luke open his eyes when he feels her bump against his shoulder. Leia rests her head there, one hand coming up to palm the back of his skull. "They would have loved you, too," she whispers, and for all that Luke loves his aunt and uncle his heart stutters in his chest at the thought. "I wish they had kept us both."

 

 

 

 

Luke works on separating his father from Darth Vader.

Leia can't. He doesn't blame her. She had loving parents, a father who let her stand on his feet while they danced across her bedroom floor, and they were murdered by Darth Vader. Even though Leia always knew she was adopted, she gave little thought to the family she had before; her birth parents had loved her, Bail and Breha told her, but they had died. Luke, though, had grown up clamoring for stories of his pilot father, and once old Ben had told him the truth - a Jedi knight, a guardian, a warrior - he had clung ever tighter to that unattainable dream.

To be like his father. To be a good man, a great Jedi.

To reconcile that image with the reality of Darth Vader makes Luke's hands shake, makes his mouth go dry. Now he clings to the differences, to the man who was a Jedi instead of the man he is now.

Every time Luke mentions their father, Leia looks like she's going to throw up. He knows she still dreams about being held on the Death Star some nights; he wakes up to her thrashing on the tarp next to him and he has to retreat outside their makeshift tent before shouting at her to wake up because he learned the first time that holding her down only makes it worse. When they meditate and their thoughts flow freely, he can still see the images of Darth Vader she holds in her mind, his dark mask lit orange by the light in the freezing chamber, surrounded by smoke as Han disappears into the floor. When Luke says _father_ , Leia hears _murderer_ and sometimes he thinks it might be easier if he did the same.

He feels lopsided without his father's lightsaber on his belt, feels like he lost a vital piece of his family history. Some days, the loss of his hand-me-down weapon hurts more than the loss of his hand.

Darth Vader uses a red lightsaber. Luke's father used a blue one.

Luke's father loved his mother. Luke's father protected the galaxy. Luke's father was Obi-Wan's apprentice, Obi-Wan's brother. Luke's father was a brilliant pilot.

He holds, he clings, he wishes, he prays.

If Darth Vader is still alive, maybe his father is, too.

 

 

 

 

The first time Luke was here to train with Yoda, the old Jedi was firm and strict and cryptic in a way that seemed to validate the little Luke knew about the Jedi order. He had called Yoda a warrior and been admonished for it, but the skills he was taught still backed up that belief.

There's something different about Yoda now, about the way he looks at them and teaches them, and Luke can't tell what it's really about. He doesn't know if it's because he defied Yoda and Ben and ran off to Bespin; doesn't know if it's because he lost his hand and he's still learning how to connect all that metal and wire with the Force. He doesn't know if it's because Leia's there and her presence - or maybe just her anger - is making it all seem different.

The only thing more potent than Leia's anger is her focus. For someone who only just learned she was Force-sensitive she is remarkably in tune. She listens carefully to every word Yoda says, even when Luke can feel her trembling with frustration, and then she manages to center herself on the task at hand. Luke envies her focus (and it must project, because Yoda raps him across the knees with his cane for it); he is endlessly fascinated by the Force but often finds his mind wandering in its boundless connectivity; it's harder for him to shut out the trees and the water and the creatures and his sister. Luke centers himself and then gets lost in the life; Leia centers herself and immediately focuses on the task at hand.

"It's not fair," he grumbles one night as they slump back to the X-wing tent. His voice is teasing, far more whiney than he actually means, but there's a nugget of truth there that Leia must pick up on because she grabs his elbow and forces him to stop before he can collapse under the tent.

"What is?"

"You and the Force. You just... get it. So much faster than me." He smirks when he says it, so she knows he's not actually upset, but it rankles. Just a little.

"It's different," she whispers, suddenly serious. "Our approach. That's all." She folds her arms against her chest, suddenly so far away, and Luke can't help but step in front of the tent to keep her from running.

"Hey, wait, what do you mean by that?"

"You want to be a Jedi," she says, shrugging slightly. "I want... results."

"You want to learn, just like me."

Leia smiles, but it doesn't sit right on her face; it makes Luke feel like a little boy she's pitying, like she's royalty and he's a commoner she's placating. "Not like you. Your relationship with the Force is vast; I can feel it when we meditate. You're connected to everything. The value of life is paramount to you." She drops her eyes: "Don't think I don't know how you feel about Vader, about the way you try to separate him from the image you have of our father."

"Leia, listen--"

"It's fine. I don't like it, but I'm not going to judge you if that's what you're worried about. You want the history and the uniform and I respect that. But not me, Luke. The only reason I'm learning all of this is so that I have something more than a blaster at my side when I go rescue Han."

Luke grabs her shoulders: "When _we_ rescue him, Leia. Us and Chewie and Lando - it's not just you, you know that, right?" Lando and Chewie check in every few days, but they haven't had anything of substance to report yet. Leia clings tight to the comlink when they call, her knuckles white, and when they tell her they're still looking, that they haven't found Han yet, she deflates and retreats deep into the swamp alone. Every time, Luke thinks about following her, but he knows nothing he says will make it better.

She doesn't speak for a moment, and Luke wonders if she's crying but, no, she's just utterly still. "I have to get him back, Luke."

"We will."

"And then, the Republic. I'm only doing all of this for that. I don't care about being a Jedi, Luke. I care about taking back what's mine."

Just as she doesn't judge him for his views on their father, Luke doesn't judge her for this. He understands it, particularly from her point of view. He cautions her against saying it aloud; even if Yoda can read their thoughts as easy as a datapad, it's probably not something that should be said in front of their Master. Leia nods in understanding, then slips from his grip and steps around him to get inside the tent.

"Leia?" She stops but doesn't turn around. "What happened with you and Han? What did I miss?"

For a long moment, Luke thinks she's not going to answer, but then her whispered words reach him, just loud enough to hear over the white noise of water in the swamp.

"Too much."

 

 

 

 

They need lightsabers.

Luke hands feel empty without his and he knows it will be far easier to rescue Han if they both have blades hanging from their belts. He is, truth be told, eager to see Leia handle a lightsaber. Yoda makes them practice with sticks in the swamp, and though they're kinder than a burning blade, the sticks are still unforgiving and Luke has more bruises than he can count thanks to his sister's quick reflexes.

Leia thrives under Yoda's tutelage when it comes to lightsaber training. For all the wariness and distrust that festers between the two of them most of the time, this aspect of training seems to make all of that fade away. Yoda is quick with praise and criticism both, and Leia takes all of it in stride. It was a joke around Rebel bases that the Alderaanian princess was a better shot than most of the scouts and ground troops, and Luke had been at her side enough to know that the joke was more fact than fiction, but now he understands why.

"Slow, you are," Yoda chastises him, but the old Jedi chuckles and the rebuke fails. Luke's on his back in the mud, his stick buried in the water a few feet away; Leia stands over him, sweat-damp hair curling around her ears as she throws him a feral grin and points her own stick at his chest.

"Just marveling at my sister's talent," Luke says, grunting when Leia laughs and prods his chest with the end of her stick. As she delights in her victory, Luke closes his eyes and centers himself, then vaults backward off the ground, calling his stick into his hand and smacking hers out of her grip before she realizes what he's done.

Luke grins at her, a mirror image of the victorious smile she'd offered him just a moment ago. "Who's slow now?"

"Easily distracted and arrogant, you _both_ are," Yoda says, shaking his head and wandering away. "So many padawans are."

If the words were meant to wound, Luke thinks, Yoda wouldn't have sounded so fond.

One morning, after a rough night (Lando and Chewie hadn't checked in like they were supposed to and they took turns staying up to watch the comlink, afraid their friends had been captured, or killed, or the com was dead, or or _or_ ) Yoda leads them out of the swamp and back to his home and they wait patiently while he digs around in an old wooden chest. He comes up with armfuls of scrap metal and crystal and begins quietly explaining how padawans construct lightsabers. They pay rapt attention and focus on their feelings, meditating with the crystals and Yoda looks almost proud when, several days later, they each present their new weapons to him. 

Yoda ignites them, one at a time, and he nods approvingly at Luke's green blade, Leia's white.

"Proud they would be, your parents," Yoda says, returning their lightsabers, and neither of them ask what parents he means: the ones who bore them or the ones who raised them. They accept the compliment as they wish and tuck that pride away in their belts.

 

 

 

 

"I get it now, why you went away after Hoth. I get why you wanted all of this," Leia says quietly. Luke is startled; he thought she'd fallen asleep.

His mind is too restless tonight, despite the weariness that has settled into his bones. He hasn't been gone from Yoda long, but he had forgotten how exhausting training could be, both physically and mentally. Today, the old Jedi had run them through the swamp for hours: they traded off carrying Yoda, the other hauling a backpack full of rocks. Luke's shoulders ached but it was the meditation exercises Yoda had guided them through that evening that left him feeling unsettled and jittery. Although he had tried to lie down and go to sleep under the X-wing, his mind was too awake for his tired body. Unwilling to disturb Leia, he had crawled out of their tent and was sitting on the nose of the little ship, watching the water tumble past.

Leia steps up besides him, whispering an apology for startling him as she leans against his side. She's warm and soft, like she had been sleeping, and he wonders if he woke her.

"It wasn't you," she says, picking the words out of his mind. That used to bother her, just a few weeks ago at the start of their training, the way the walls between their minds would falter at the end of a long, hard day of training. If it still bothers her, he can't tell; she's just accepted it. "It was--"

"You had a nightmare," Luke supplies, reaching out to touch her mind, too. "About Han. Was it the same one you always have?"

She nods. She's figured out a way to shield him from certain things, secrets she's not quite ready to share yet, and that recurring nightmare is one of them. Luke only knows it's about Han and what happened at Bespin; selfishly, he's glad she hasn't shown it to him yet. He wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her closer.

"I'm in love with him," she says eventually, her voice hoarse.

"I know," Luke says, and the words bring a smile to her lips. Luke feels like he's missing a joke but he doesn't ask her to explain.

"You're incredible," she whispers after a little while. Luke looks up at her, confusion wrinkled across his forehead. She presses her thumb there, right in the middle of his forehead, and forces the lines to smooth out. "You're so strong in the Force, Luke, and you've taken this all in stride. Far better than I have."

"I think you're doing just fine."

She smirks, shaking her head. "No, not like you. Yoda's only training me because you forced his hand. You're the real Jedi here; I'm just using the Force. And that's okay," she says, stopping him from interrupting her. "I don't want that. But I admire it in you. I admire the dedication you have, even if I don't share it. All of this seems to come to you so naturally."

"It does and it doesn't," Luke allows. "Same for you. You've made incredible progress."

"I'm sufficiently motivated," she says, and leaves it at that. She tips her head to the side so it's resting on his shoulder and without a moment's thought Luke turns his head and kisses her hairline. He feels the smile bloom on her face and can't help but think _they kept us apart for so long_.

 

 

 

 

"Gone, you will be. Soon," Yoda cautions them during meditation.

Leia loses her focus and the rocks she had been suspending in the air start to rain down; she wraps her arms around her head to protect herself, but Luke reaches out and grabs them. His own rocks jitter in the air for a moment, but then they all settle calmly to the ground and Leia nods her thanks.

"Master, what do you mean?"

"Your captain: found, he has been."

"Where?" Leia demands, eyes wild. Yoda shakes his head.

"Clouded, everything is. The location is not known to me. But the others in search, found him they have."

"Lando and Chewie," Luke mumbles, patting at his pockets and trying to remember where they put the comlink. "Leia, where--"

But Leia has already set off at a dead run, back toward Yoda's home and the X-wing parked right beside it: "I left it charging in the ship!" She calls back to him, and Luke pauses only long enough to swing Yoda up onto his back before running after her.

"Master, you know we'll have to leave when they call," Luke says as he dodges trees and jumps over vines. He wonders if he'll ever stay long enough to finish his training, or if his loyalty to his friends will constantly call him away. Strangely, that thought doesn't bother him at all.

"Understand, I do," and Luke feels the Jedi pat the back of his head. "Restless, you both are, but your love for each other and for Captain Solo... admirable, it is. And dangerous."

"Can you forgive us?" Luke knows they will leave regardless of Yoda's feelings, but it feels important to know either way.

Yoda sighs. "Mind each other," he says instead. "Take care. Temper each other's anger, you must."

"I'll keep an eyes on her," Luke promises. He knows Leia, knows that rescuing Han is the priority, but if she has a shot at Vader or Boba Fett or whoever is holding Han know, that she'll be more than willing to sink into rage and take it. But Yoda tugs sharply on Luke's hair and he skids to a stop not far from the X-wing; Leia has already climbed into the pilot seat and is speaking into the comlink.

"Mind _your anger_ as well, she should."

"We won't fail you."

The words echo strangely in his head, and he remembers saying that to Yoda before, the first time he came to train. He's a little older now, a little wiser, a little more hurt, and a little less human. The intent behind his words is the same, even if he is starkly aware of how easy it would be to fail Yoda, to fail Leia, his father, everyone in his life. Some part of him wonders if he hasn't already failed and all he's trying to do now is make up for it. Luke sets Yoda down on the ground and the old Jedi taps his cane against Luke's shins affectionately. 

"Go," he orders without acknowledging Luke's last statement. Luke hears the splash of Leia's boots in the mud and her approaching footsteps, her Force signature singing with joy and urgency, and he meets her at the nose of the X-wing to go over the news from Lando and Chewie. 

Yoda retreats into his home and they take off before sunset.


End file.
